“Oh. Okay.” His face changes, relaxes as though he’s relieved. “I’m really glad you have someone you can talk to. You can talk to me, too. I’ve been told I’m a really good listener.” He flashes his pearly whites, almost like he knows his smile is charming.
“Thanks, Jimmy.” I probably won’t. Not because I don’t think he’d be good at listening, but I don’t need him to. Brett has done more for me in the last two months than Kamry could do in six. What could Jimmy possibly say that Brett hasn’t without sounding trite?
The light on the porch flickers on and off. “Oops. That’s my dad. I need to say good night.”
Jimmy looks at his watch. “Oh, dangit. It’s after midnight. I hadn’t realized. I need to get home, too.” He gives me a peck on the lips and is backing away when Dad opens the door. “Night, Mr. Kaminski.”
“Good night, Jimmy.” There’s a fatherly tone in his voice he never once used on Mitchell. When he closes and locks the door, he turns to me. “He respectful?”
“Yes.”
“He trustworthy?”
“I think so.”
“He responsible?”
“As far as I can tell.”
Dad nods and purses his lips, contemplating something. “You should invite him over next week for TGIF. I missed ya tonight, kiddo.”
I hug him. It didn’t occur to me until now, this was the first night since the accident I’ve missed our Friday daddy/daughter date night.
SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT
Brett
SATURDAY, MARCH 13
“Where are these glass bottles coming from?” Amber turns as I walk into my room after my shower, one of Ruby’s message bottles in her hand.
“Nowhere.” Thankfully, I had the foresight to remove the letters. “Why are you snooping in my room?”
“Cole called.” She returns the bottle to my desk. “He wants to do lunch.”
“Lunch? In Allentown?” It’s nearly noon. Hope and I are supposed to hang out today. Driving to Cole’s, lunch, then back will take a minimum of three hours.
“No, he’s on his way here.” She opens my closet and rifles through my shirts.
“Uh, hello?”
“What? You’re going out with Hope later, aren’t you? Can’t have you looking all butt ugly, can we?”
This is the old Amber. The Amber who loved shopping for me and nixed my grunge phase as quickly as it started in favor of polos and flat front khaki shorts. The Amber who liked hanging fashion magazine pictures on her walls.
“Of course not. I was planning on wearing some jeans and a sweater. It’s not difficult.” I laugh as her fingers slap at the sleeves of different shirts.
She stretches up and yanks a sweater from the shelf above my hanging clothes. “Wear blue, it brings out your eyes.” She tosses the navy knit my way. Blue, it is.
“You’re not angry about Hope?”
“Angry? Why would I be angry?” I can’t see how she truly feels with her back to me. Her voice is even. That’s a good sign.
“It kind of happened. I mean, nothing has happened, but—”
“I love her, and I love you. If you two like each other, I’m not going to stop you, B. Don’t stress over it.”
Terms of endearment are few and far between with us lately. When she was arrested she begged me not to call Cole. I didn’t listen. I couldn’t not tell him. In return she gave me the cold shoulder for weeks.
“I’m borrowing this.” She waves a plaid flannel in my face as she exits the closet. “Get dressed. Cole should be here any minute.”
I’m tempted to argue with her, I’ll never see my shirt again, and if I do it will smell like flowers, but I refrain. “Hey, Am,” I call as she’s closing my door. She peeks back in, her eyes wide. “I love you, too.”
***
Eating always helps make awkward conversations less awkward. Maybe it’s the little breaks we take as we dip our chips into salsa, or the crunching sounds filling the air. Or it’s the atmosphere. The Saturday afternoon crowd, the smells of Mexican food as dishes are delivered around us, the upbeat music piping through the speakers—it’s festive when this meal had every intention of being somber.
“How’s school?” Cole asks between chips. Amber’s eyes slide my way, my cue to take the lead.
“It’s good. Spring fever has hit, especially for the seniors. Midterms are next week.”
Amber times her bites with my talking, each time I pause, she stuffs a chip in her mouth. At this rate she’ll be too stuffed to eat the lunch she ordered. Coward.
Cole chuckles, dipping another chip as our server appears with plates in hand. Leaning back as food is set in front of him, he waits. Once we’re all served and the waitress has refills our drinks, he nods. “I recall those days.” His blue eyes twinkle. “It’ll fly by after mid-terms.”
“Thank goodness,” Amber mutters, blowing on a bite before stuffing it into her mouth. Cole snorts.
We lapse into a peaceful meal. The emptier our plates become the more Cole fidgets. His knee bounces under the table, rattling the dishes. His fingers drum the table between bites. His eyes flit between Amber and me, scanning our faces every few minutes. Anxiety flutters to life in my gut. He’s waiting to tell us something important.
Amber pushes back from the table and tosses her napkin onto her nearly empty plate. Of course she’s done first. She ate through the entire meal while Cole and I discussed life. Her arms cross over her chest. “Alright, what’s the deal with the family get together?” I nearly choke. “Are you finally ready to persecute me for that night?”
“Amber,” I shoot a warning, but her eyes are fixed on Cole.
“Persecute you?” His silverware clinks as he sets them down and wipes his mouth. “If I was going to punish you, which is within my right to do, I would have already. You’re eighteen, Amber, nothing I do is going to stop you from being stupid if you don’t want to stop.”
“I . . . well, okay.” She slouches in her seat, her arms falling to her lap as her shoulders roll forward. For someone being let off the hook, she’s awfully upset. “Then why the lunch?”
“If you two have to question my motives for having lunch with you, I obviously haven’t been around enough.” He releases a deep breath.
Unfortunately, he stated the truth. He hasn’t been around enough. I can’t blame him though. He has his own stressful life and grief to deal with. He wasn’t supposed to be saddled with two teens.
Cole sighs. He lifts his drink, taking a long sip before setting the glass down and clearing his throat. “I think it’s time we discuss what happens next.”
SUNDAY, MARCH 14
Ruby,
Yesterday, two things happened. I want to tell you about the first, I do, but I need a few days to process it. No one is hurt, arrested, or pregnant. It’s just that life keeps changing.
The second thing, I CAN tell you. Are you ready?
You’re officially pen palling—is that what we’re calling this—with a Nitney Lion! In case you have no idea what I’m talking about, I got into Penn State! My first choice college, my parent’s Alma Mater. Better yet, Amber did too.
Obviously, her acceptance will be contingent on her passing this year. I think she’ll be fine. She’s still staying out late and parties too much on the weekends, but between Hope and me, we keep her in check as far as school is concerned.
There you go. A day filled with bad news and good, ups and downs. That’s life, huh?
—College Bound Brett
P.S. When I opened that envelope and saw the ‘Congratulations’ I really wished my parents were here.
P.P.S. What about you and college? How have we not discussed this yet?
DREAMS
Ruby
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 17
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”
Kamry beams at my locker with Gaby and Valerie. Our traditions are falling back into place. They each have a birthday bouquet in hand: tulips and sunflowers and daisies. They haven’t
forgotten my favorites.
“Oh, wow. You guys . . . Thank you.”
A couple weeks ago when Gaby and Valerie started talking to me again, it was a little strained. No one has apologized. Not me for shutting them out. And not them for not trying harder. I’m trying really hard to be Ruby the Optimist and give them the benefit of the doubt. Things will get better. It’ll go back to the way it always was. Someday.
“Where is Jimmy taking you for your birthday?” Gaby helps me arrange the flowers in my arms so I’ll be able to carry them around school.
“Uh. Nowhere, I don’t think. We don’t have anything planned.”
The three of them go silent, mouths agape.
“Does he know it’s your birthday?” Valerie is about to go find and tell him, if he doesn’t. I can see it in her eyes as they scour the crowded hallways.
“Well, I didn’t mention it to him.”
“Ruby.” My name is sung in unison.
“What? I didn’t want to make it weird. I didn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything for me. We just started dating.” And it’s still weird to say.
“He’s your boyfriend.” Gaby chews on the end of her hair. I want to pluck it out of her mouth. Just because we’re dating shouldn’t mean he has an automatic responsibility to spoil me. He doesn’t even know me well enough yet to know what to get me. “Don’t you think he’ll feel stupid if he’s the only one that didn’t do anything for you?”
I’m not used to the fact that we’re dating. Hearing him referred to as my boyfriend is even weirder. Jimmy Hoffman is my boyfriend. Nope. Still weird to even think it.
“It’s fine. I have dance after school and a ton of homework, so it’s not like I’d have time to do anything anyways.”
“He could’ve gotten you something.” Valerie places her hands on her hips like someone’s in trouble, but I can’t be sure if it’s me or Jimmy. “He could’ve brought you flowers, at least.”
“I don’t need a gift or flowers from him.”
Kamry looks uneasy. “But don’t you think he’ll feel bad when he finds out it’s your birthday, and he didn’t do anything?”
I chuckle. They are way too concerned about this. “I’ll tell Jimmy not to worry about it. It’s fine, you guys. Really.”
“Tell me not to worry about what?” His arm slips around my waist and draws me to his side. He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Who are the flowers from?”
I point at the girls. “Birthday flowers.”
“Well, good thing I came prepared.” Jimmy whips out a pink rose and kisses my cheek. “Happy Birthday, beautiful.”
A quiet gasp slips passed my lips. “How did you know?”
“Just lucky, I guess.”
“No, seriously.”
Jimmy scratches the side of his head and self-consciously combs his fingers through the wave of hair across his forehead. “Eddie may or may not have mentioned it since Kamry was talking about needing to get these ‘traditional birthday flowers’ for you. ”
I lift onto my tiptoes and he leans his cheek down so I can reach him for a kiss. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.”
The bell rings for school to start.
“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t bring my girlfriend something on her birthday?”
“That’s what we said!” Kamry, Valerie, and Gaby chime their agreement, which I ignore.
“You have dance after school today, right?” I nod. “I’ll take you out this weekend.”
“Okay.” My smile widens.
He looks me up and down. “Good thing you wore a green bow in your hair or I’d have to pinch you on your birthday.”
Brett,
I always have to wear green on my birthday and I hate it. What if I don’t want to wear green? What if I want to wear red or purple or black? It doesn’t matter. If I don’t wear green, I get pinched. Dang you, St. Patrick’s Day! No one likes to get pinched, and especially not on her birthday. Happy Birthday to me! I don’t even like green. Well, St. Patrick’s Day green. It’s not a pretty color on me. It occurred to me today I don’t know when your birthday is. Since you were already 18 when we started writing, I figure you have a birthday coming up this year and I want to be prepared. So, do tell.
I want to get a nose ring for my 18th birthday. It’s kind of a big decision. My dad might kill me, but I’ve wanted one for so long. Maybe a little hoop ring? Think he’ll notice? I’m thinking of going this weekend with Kamry to get it done. I guess you’ll find out in the next letter!
Ruby
P.S. Did you claim your undying love to your freshman stalker yet?
P.P.S. Speaking of colors, what’s your favorite color? Would it be cliché of me to say mine is red? Because it is.
I draw a heart and sign my name. The heart isn’t too much, right? I’m not saying “Love, Ruby” or “I love you.” Just writing a cute little doodle in front of my name. I’m overthinking this. It’s fine. Brett won’t think anything of it.
FRIDAY, MARCH 19
Brett The Nitney Lion,
Congratulations! That’s so exciting! And Amber got in, too! You must be so proud of her. I’m proud of her and I don’t even know her. I’ll be crossing my fingers she does well for the rest of the year. Graduation is creeping up, isn’t it? Two and a half months and we’ll be college bound. Insane.
Me? Well. When I was about 12 years old my parents took me to New York to see The Phantom of the Opera. (Which is absolutely amazing, by the way. If you haven’t seen it, you have to. It’s a must). I fell in love with theater and swore to myself I would someday make it on Broadway, pursuing my mom’s passion. She wasn’t on Broadway or anything, but she was an accomplished dancer.
I applied and found out earlier this month I got a scholarship to NYU for their dance program. Unbelievable, right? You’re the only person I’ve told. My dad doesn’t even know I applied, but I’m not going. I can’t leave him alone, you know? It’s amazing enough to know I got in. I also got accepted to UC Berkeley, so that’s where I plan on going. Then I can still be close to my dad and not have to worry about him as much. UC Berkeley has a great dance program, too. It’s not #1, but it’s in the top 100. And it’s only like 40 min away from my house, so I can have my freedom and come home when I need to. It feels better this way.
~Ruby
P.S. As for that “thing” you didn’t want to talk about, let me know if there is anything I can do. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk.
WELCOME TO PARADISE
Brett
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 24
What the heck, Ruby! How could you have a birthday and not tell me beforehand?? Do I mean nothing to you? I think it’s time we share more about ourselves. You first!
St. Patrick’s Day birth, kind of funny since you’re Polish. “Kiss me, I’m Polish” doesn’t have the same ring to it, huh? How about “Kiss me, it’s my birthday”? I hope it was an awesome day. Jimmy better have treated you to dinner and bought you something nice. I know the first one without your mom is hard. Amber struggled on our birthday. Her and Mom used to get their nails done. I’m sure your mom was smiling down on you and making your wishes come true.
Welcome to adulthood. I’ve been here for a few months (August 21st) and I can tell you, it isn’t much different from being a ‘kid’. I mean you can vote, enlist in the armed forces, and legally get married without parental permission, all things to consider. You can also pierce orifices other than your ears AND get tattoos! You get your piercing and I’ll get a tattoo. Deal?
This week is mid-terms, otherwise known as hell week. I’m taking a break from cramming to write to you. Thanks for the distraction. I wish I could sit here all night, but then I might fail my exam, flunk out of high school, and watch my dreams wash down the drain. Speaking of dreams, you should reconsider going to NYU. It’s your dream, original I know, but what more needs to be said?
Back to studying. I’ll write soon, I swear!
—Brett
P.S. By share more, I mean it’s time we swap pictures. I need to see the nose ring. Plus, every time I think of you I see Dorothy and her ruby slippers. Now, if that’s the mental picture you want me to have, I’ll accept it, as long as you’re not picturing me as the Tin Man!
P.P.S. My stalker girl and I are planning on living happily ever after. Have you ever seen ‘Misery’?
P.P.P.S. My favorite color is green. Don’t you feel bad for knocking it?
I chuckle. Too much studying has gone to my head. As I address the envelope, an idea comes to mind. Carefully, I fold the letter in half. I steeple the top into a triangle, fold the sides back once more, making another triangle, then two more folds. I smile and write a note on the small triangular shape I have left. I don’t allow myself to second-guess what I’m saying. I go with my gut, then I go in search of a legal sized envelope to hold my creation and write Ruby’s address once more. Finished, I dedicate myself to my studies for the remainder of the night.
WISHING ON A STAR
Ruby
TUESDAY, MARCH 30
Jimmy walks into my house behind me. “My dad won’t be home for another few hours, and he won’t want you here while he’s not home, so let me change into my swimsuit real quick, and then we can go to your house.”
Paper Planes and Other Things We Lost Page 9
